


night shineth as the day

by aikanaro



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Atonement - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Memories, Miscommunication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reembodiment, The Children of Caranthir and Haleth, The Kids Didn't Actually Choose Mortality, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24192229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aikanaro/pseuds/aikanaro
Summary: Caranthir has returned from the Halls after long ages in death. Reembodied, he tries to come to terms with the loss of the wife and children he buried in Beleriand - and all the ways he failed them.But not all that is dead remains so, and some of what was lost may yet return to him.-The tale of Caranthir and Haleth's children, and their return from the Halls of Mandos.
Relationships: Caranthir | Morifinwë & Nerdanel, Caranthir | Morifinwë & Original Character(s), Caranthir | Morifinwë/Haleth of the Haladin
Comments: 62
Kudos: 183





	1. recollections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> caranthir begins to recount parts of his life he has long kept hidden. 
> 
> -
> 
> halwen and halion (the mentioned original characters) were first introduced in "a refuge from a sweeping wind, from a tempest."

**Nerdanel**

The day was passing just as many had before it. Carnistir stared out the window, seemingly searching for something as he watched the gentle spring rainfall outside. His face was impassive, expressionless. He did not speak or move; he scarcely seemed to breathe. 

_If you were not my own boy, I might be fooled into believing your mind was untroubled. But I see more of you than that,_ Nerdanel thought as she watched him.

Three weeks her middle child had been returned from the Halls, and three weeks he had been like this. She had not expected to find him as he had been before it all, as that was not the result of time spent in Mandos. The Halls seemed largely to hold them in stasis, blind and dream-like, distant from their earthly cares so that they might contemplate and learn from life and it’s mistakes. That distance allowed hurts to ease and become less immediate, but there was some healing that could be found only among the living. But, she thought, perhaps this was merely the particular nature of her children’s wounds. Perhaps it was different for others. 

In any case, she had not been foolish enough to believe she would find Carnistir still the brilliant boy she had known in the light of the trees all those years ago. She had thought he would carry still the hurts of exile and war. Memories of slaughter and suffering were slow to fade. But this quiet, distant son she could not have imagined. In his fathomless eyes there was something absent, as though some immeasurable part of him were missing and had left a profound sadness in its wake. 

Nerdanel might have expected silent forbearance from Maitimo or even, perhaps, Atarinkë. But not Carnistir. In his youth some had thought him fey and strange and had said he was prone to unreasonable rage. Nerdanel thought he was simply more like his father than most realized. He burned too brightly and whatever he felt was always visible, loud and demanding to be heard.

And so his blank silence alarmed her, because it was so unlike him in every respect. 

_What ails you?_ , she thought as she watched him across the room. _I would hear it as I always have._

In response, Carnistir simply stared outside into the soft rainstorm. Well, Nerdanel decided, if she could not discern his thoughts, she would simply be with him while he endured them. There was another chair beside his at the window and she made her way to it, her footsteps soft on the wooden floor. 

Saying nothing, she sat down beside him. At first he was still, his vigil at the window uninterrupted, but then he turned and looked at her.

Nerdanel surveyed him. Any sculptor knew to look for cracks and weaknesses in the stone, and she searched him now in much the same way. She wanted to find the wound in him so that she might help it heal. 

She held his gaze for a time and then knew, suddenly, what question to ask. This look he wore, this heavy silence that shrouded him, it was of grief. 

When he had returned, he had promptly shorn his hair up to his shoulders and, bizarrely to her eyes, burned the severed black tresses. As his mother, she had bemoaned the loss, but assumed he felt it an act of repentance. 

She understood better now. He shore his hair as a sign of his mourning. 

He grieved, but for whom she could not guess. 

For those he had slain, perhaps? No, this seemed more intimate. This was for someone he had known. It could have been his brothers, she supposed. Apart from the Ambarussat, he was the only one yet returned. Maitimo, Tyelkormo, and Atarinkë all had yet to be granted that freedom. Of Makalaurë’s fate, she had no idea. And yet, by some intuition, Nerdanel knew that this was not for his brothers. Surely, he mourned them also, but the grief etched into his face now was something else. 

“Who is it, _yonya_?” she asked. “For whom do you mourn?” 

For a time, her son only stared back at her with the same impassive expression he had worn since being reembodied. But then her eyes seemed to break through to him, to find his _fëa_ beneath his _hröa_. He hesitated, as though giving one last effort to hide, and then his face rippled, the neutral mask cracking and falling away in an instant. It was as though some long-held barrier in him had at last broken open under his mother’s gaze.

His body shook. “How—” 

“Does it matter? ...Carnistir, if you cannot speak of this, I will not try to make you. But you need not pretend that there is no hurt at all when plainly you suffer.”

Before their sundering, her son had confided in her. Of all his brothers, he had ever been one of the most likely to do so. She had been the one to whom he could unleash all the enormity of what he felt. But it had been long years of experience and suffering since then and if he could no longer, she would not force it. He would talk when he was ready, as he always had. 

However, it seemed that whatever dam had broken inside him would not be so easily sealed off again. He looked at his mother, his face contorted in emotion, and, all at once, what remained of him cracked wide open. Breaths that had already been coming too fast became dry sobs and one hand reached up to cover his mouth. 

Nerdanel put a hand on his shoulder slowly so as not to overwhelm him, but he abandoned that restraint and pitched forward into her arms as he had done countless times as a boy. Somehow, he felt terribly small again against her. She could feel him shake with the force of his sobs, and though he had not been truly weeping before, she soon felt the wet of his tears. Carnistir did not open his mind, but his _fëa_ was suddenly bared to her, bleeding and fragile in a way she had never known it. 

_Eru, what has caused this?_ , she thought, overwhelmed, _What has been done to him?_

Her beloved son lay in a thousand glittering pieces in her arms. She ran a soothing hand through his cropped hair, unable to do anything but hold him. 

“I—,” he started eventually, his shaking voice muffled against her, “I never told anyone about them, _Amil_. No one at all. No one knows but me and now no one remembers. It—it has been a secret for so long now, I find that I don’t know where to begin.”

Nerdanel hummed softly in acknowledgement, still holding him close to her. She knew not what to make of this cryptic comment, but waited.

“Do you know of the Secondborn?” Carnistir asked. “Have you heard tell here of the race of Men?”

She nodded against him. 

“Then you know—you know that their fates—their fates are other than ours.”

Nerdanel paused at this. She had heard tell of the _Atani_ , had even met them in Tuor and Elwing. She suspected her son had not grasped just how long he had waited in the Halls, and she knew that he had heard little of events while he had rested there, for he had not troubled himself with it. 

“Short are their years, I have heard. And when their lives are spent they pass on from the world, to meet a fate unknown to us,” she said. 

At this, a slight tremor passed through Carnistir’s _fëa_. Abruptly, he pulled away from her, and looked at her with sudden purpose. His hair was mussed and his cheeks red, but he looked at Nerdanel with new determination. His jaw set and his eyes were hard. Whatever this was, he needed to look her in the eye to say it.

“What of it, my son?” she prompted. 

He swallowed hard.

“Among that noble people, there was someone. A great lady of her folk, a chieftainess among them. Her name...her name was Haleth. And she was dear to me…No wife more beloved has ever walked on Arda.”

Nerdanel breathed in sharply. 

“We had forty-five years together, _Amil_. And now—now she is lost to me.”

Oh. 

_Oh._

_A wife_. She had not foreseen this. 

A wife, gone from the world entirely to a place he could not follow her. It was no wonder, then, that such a loss haunted him. Without regard to estrangement or death, to lose Fëanáro in so final a way would be an unfathomable wound. Sorrow welled in her heart that she would never know this law-daughter and that Carnistir would be parted from her. She ached for him. If she were honest, she had never bothered to worry over-much over the fate of the _Atani_ before, but suddenly it seemed an unimaginable cruelty that this Haleth, whoever she had been, should be kept apart from him and that they should’ve had so short a time together. Forty-five years. _Eru beyond._

“My heart, I am so sorry.” she told him, and took his hand in hers. 

Wise as she was, she knew that were some things for which there were no appropriate words of condolence. She could only listen to him and be with him. Nerdanel thought that that was his terrible secret, though why it had been secret she could not tell, but when she looked back at her son he was all but trembling with yet more things unsaid.

 _What more?_ She thought, _Surely my son cannot have been made to suffer more than this._

He opened his mouth and then shut it again, as though trying to find the words.

“Haleth and I, we had two children together. Twins, a boy and a girl. My daughter I called Morimíriel. My son I named Veryafinwë. Haleth called them Halwen and Halion. They were...everything. But they—,” his jaw clenched, “— they are gone with their mother now.”

Nerdanel inhaled sharply. 

For a moment, it did not even register. Children? There were children, too, that were lost to the night? That could not be right. No, surely not, it seemed too terrible. Surely, for all that he was guilty of a great many things, Carnistir could not deserve this. The loss of a child was a cruelty she would not wish on anyone, let alone her own son. It was too terrible to think of. She could not fathom it, but nor could she push it aside.

“My heart breaks with yours… but… how can no one know? Why have I not heard of them?” she asked. 

He looked into her eyes again, something near regret staining his features. “I thought to protect them. It was so dangerous to be of our house; We had so many enemies. The Doom hung over us...and Morgoth would hunt them because I am their father, because I am _Atar_ ’s son. Even among the Noldor, they would have known scorn for who they were, and terrible pressure and expectation: I saw Tyelperinquar live that truth. And they were something new, something that I, at least, had never seen before. A child between the Eldar and the Atani, one who was of both kins, might face opposition for what they were. I sought to keep them from hurt or harm or even discomfort—even now the thought of them in any pain is...unbearable.”

 _Carnistir was a father_. She still could barely process it, she would never have guessed. “But how, then? Surely, any child of our house would be noticed. If not by all, by your brothers and cousins, at least. They cannot have hidden long among the Noldor.”

“No, they could not have. The Haladin, the people of Haleth, did not settle in Thargelion with me, though that is another story. They lived in a forest on the western side of Doriath, called Brethil. They were wary of outsiders, even other men, and saw few elves. Veryafinwë and Morimíriel lived with their mother there and she raised them, though I was there whenever I could get away.”

Nerdanel’s heart twisted again at this. She was sure Haleth had been a great lady and her folk had been worthy, but for her grandchildren to have not grown up among the Noldor? To have known none of their own kin save their father? Further still, Carnistir had not even been able to enjoy all of the short time he was allowed with his wife and children. Did it never cease?

He must have felt her shock. 

“It was...not easy. I wanted to tell the others and many times they nearly discovered them. My children loved to hear stories of their uncles and of places outside Brethil, and I know—I know that everyone would have _loved_ them. I know, too, that as their father I am blinded, but they were... They were so good, _Amil_. They deserved better than me.” he told her. His shoulders slumped slightly and she knew then that the weight of this secret, of this private grief, had nearly crushed him.

“I believe you,” she replied. “Any child of yours would have been— no, _is_ — adored. I do not know them, but still I begin to care for them and I mourn that they are gone.”

And it was true, she was realizing. These children, unlooked for and faceless still in her mind, were beginning to take up space in her heart she had not known was for them.

“I should have told everyone. The secrecy was for nothing, in the end. They _died_ anyway.”

At this pronouncement, grief seemed to take hold of him again and he looked away, plainly trying to keep it at bay. Nerdanel could scarcely stand to see him in such a state. Her son was shattered, this cruel loss having laid him in ruin more even than kinslaying or war. 

“I don’t know the particulars, of course, but you did what you thought was best to keep them safe. That is all any parent can do.” This choice to keep his wife and his children hidden from his family who would surely have helped him, she could not fully understand. But, then, she had not been there. She did not know what it was to fear and to suffer in that way. It was beyond her to judge him and even if she wished to, it would fix nothing now. 

He shook his head. 

“It was not enough.” he whispered. “It sometimes feels as though they never lived, because I alone knew them. I alone live to remember. In the light of day, I sometimes fear that Haleth and the little ones were only a very good dream, a happy reprieve in my madness.”

Carnistir’s face fell into his hands.

There was nothing she could say. But she could be with him and allow him to be in pain without pretense. There was only the two of them and the rain here. He had no one to hide from.

For a long while there was nothing but the quiet sound of the rain outside and the feel of her son’s ragged fëa against her own. She did not fully understand, but she knew that he needed her, and so she reached her spirit out to his through their ancient bond and tried to soothe him. “You could tell me about them,” she said finally. “So that someone else will remember with you.”

He shifted against her. “I don’t think I _can_. Even after they were gone I could not tell anyone. It was too much even to speak their names. They had only seen ninety-four years. And when they were slain it—it was beyond bearing, a pain beyond pain, as though— _as though my fëa itself was being flayed alive_ . And I...I had no compassion for a world they did not live in, _Amil_. Doriath came easily after that. I am supposed to say that I went uneasily into that place and felt guilt as I slew them, but I felt nothing. My children were dead, and so the whole world should burn with them. It felt good to make someone else suffer as they had. I could feel the Oath, but it was not everything. For me, it was vengeance. I repent of it now, do not think I do not. I know it was an evil and if I could undo it, I would, a thousand times over. I know now that it...what happened to Morimíriel and Veryafinwë was no one’s fault but _mine_.”

Nerdanel could no longer hold in her own tears. Both to hear her son speak thusly and to know of these children’s end. _Ninety-four_ . Her grandchildren had died so young and now would not return. It was not _fair_.

Suddenly, the urge to know them, to have met Carnistir’s babes and understand them as she understood him, was overpowering. The need to remember with him was no longer only a wish to share the burden with him. Suddenly, it was about mourning itself. These young ones, whoever they had been, deserved that much.

“Then tell me not of their loss,” she said. “Tell me of their lives. Who were they? And your lady, too. Tell me of Haleth.”

Carnistir shifted to sit up straight in the old wooden chair and wrung his hands. He seemed to steel himself, resolved to do this without allowing his grief to impede him.

He opened his mind to her slightly, a bare fissure that she might look through. He had never cared to practice _ósanwë_ with any particular skill, but she realized he meant to show her his memories as he told her and so Nerdanel reached her own mind out towards his to strengthen the thread between them. 

He fidgeted, wringing his hands again. “When first I met Haleth, she was screaming and covered in orc blood. Her people, the Haladin, had come over the mountains when she was a girl and settled for a time in my lands in Thargelion, but I had never treated with them. They were terribly secretive but they did my people no harm and lived on land I had no other use for. I saw no reason to drive them away. One spring they were overrun by an orc raid and when I realized it, I rode to their aid.”

_The scene flitted before Nerdanel’s eyes, a pale specter, not quite so vibrant as the waking world, but there nonetheless. She watched, not as a third observer, but as Carnistir, as he remembered. She could feel as he felt, think as he thought._

_The evidence of a massacre lay scattered, trampled into the mud beneath the hooves of Carnistir’s horse. Bodies of men and women lay as they had fallen, weapons still clasped in cold hands. Nerdanel gagged at the sight. Fortunately, Carnistir’s gaze soon turned away. He and his men pressed onward through a forest, looking for survivors or any that yet held out. It was not long before they found them. War cries and the sound of metal singing against metal drew them. When they arrived, the orcs assailed a bit of higher ground, a round hill on which Atani were fighting for their lives._

_It was then that Nerdanel saw her._

_At the center of the fray stood a woman, prominent before all the rest in Carnistir’s mind. She was short, even among these men who all seemed small to Nerdanel’s eyes, and yet somehow her presence towered. She was filthy, mud and blood all over her, staining her fair hair dark and coating her tunic. With powerful arms she wielded axes that cut through orcs and a defiant cry, piercing and wild fell from her lips. Nerdanel did not need to speak their tongue to understand it. It was the sound of a last stand. And yet this woman stood with no fear. Her eyes blazed as though her gaze alone might cut through the fray._

_So this was Haleth._

Carnistir’s voice broke through the memory.

“She was...in every way singular. Her father and her twin brother had been slain not hours before and yet she did not waver a single inch, at least not then. I think if I had met her on any other occasion, I would have thought her a fortress of a woman, unassailable in every way, and even still she was....formidable. Even that day, grief-stricken as she was, she had no fear of me or my men. I don’t think she was even particularly impressed.”

_The scene shifted. Haleth, still covered in dirt and blood, sat across from Carnistir, meeting his gaze unflinching. They were within some kind of tent, one which Nerdanel assumed had been set up in the wake of the fighting. Haleth was illuminated by low candle light, her stern face glowing golden. In Carnistir’s memory she shone, as if all that Nerdanel could see through his eyes was centered on her. Nerdanel doubted it had been so when first they met, but love had transfigured memory._

_“I am Caranthir Fëanorion, the lord of these lands,” he said in greeting. Nerdanel felt him wonder if Haleth would understand him. He had heard enough conversation among the survivors to know that whatever mannish tongue these people spoke was too far removed from any he knew for him to be of much help._

_His concern was unnecessary. Haleth surveyed him with hard eyes, before replying. “I am Haleth, daughter of Haldad.”_

_The tongue was strange, certainly not quite the Sindarin, but even more certainly an elvish tongue near it, similar and related enough so as to not be an issue for him. The whole thing was curious and he wondered what elves they had met who might have taught it to them, but had no idea._

_“So….you are capable of speaking this tongue, then. That is well. I had feared you to be more simple creatures.”_

_Haleth scowled. “It may come as a shock to you, sir,” she spat. “But I am possessed of full well as much strength of mind as you.”_

_Carnistir stiffened at her insolence, his jaw clenching. “I did not say otherwise, Adaneth.”_

_“And yet already you talk down to me, when you know nothing of me. Do not think me ignorant of it. We have had contact with your kind before, Elf. A more self-important, superior lot of_ mayfiadin _I never knew!”_

_Nerdanel had no idea what ‘mayfiadin’ were, and Carnistir’s mind offered no translation, but she suspected it was nothing kind._

_Carnistir rounded on her._

_“See here!” he cried, “You speak to a prince of the Noldor! I know not what elves you have dealt with who taught you to speak in this tongue and revile our kind, but I am none of them! I have come to the aid of your folk, spared you from certain death on orc-blades and now offer you aid and yet you make baseless accusations of my entire people! Mind your tone!” Carnistir stared her down, his lip curling. He stood, drawing himself up to his full height in his anger._

_Haleth did not waver an inch. She stood to meet him. She was much smaller than he, the top of her head scarcely as high as the bottom of his breast-bone, but she glared at him with no fear. “I say nothing that is untrue! I am not ungrateful, but you know nothing of me or my people and you shall not think of yourself as saviors of pitiful, lesser creatures!”_

_They stared each other down, neither one relenting. Carnistir had initially meant to glower her into submission, as in his experience people tended to flee before his rage, but nothing of the sort happened. He felt strangely as though he could not look away, like somehow he was snared in her dark eyes, prey to her. She looked nothing like any beautiful woman he had ever seen and yet he was suddenly aware that there was something arresting about her. His face felt hot. The thought so unsettled him, he blinked._

_Before she could notice he had been the first to flinch, they were interrupted by the flap of the tent opening. One of Carnistir’s captains, accompanied by a mortal woman, stepped inside._

_“Forgive the intrusion, my lord,” the elf said, looking at Carnistir. “This woman is trying to get in here and won’t be sent away.”_

_With no more introduction, the woman in question ran forward to Haleth and began to speak rapidly in that same unintelligible mortal tongue. Whatever she said made Haleth’s jaw clench as though in pain and then she nodded in mask-like seriousness. The unknown woman reached within her pocket and pulled out some small wooden item Carnistir could not see properly and placed it in Haleth’s hands. For a moment, a look of terrible sorrow passed over Haleth’s face, before it disappeared again, hidden behind her scowl._

_Nerdanel watched, not understanding what had just happened. Neither, it seemed, did Carnistir. In a few more minutes, the woman and the captain that had accompanied her excused themselves from the tent, the elf apologizing for the interruption once more._

_Haleth, as though suddenly weary, sat back down in her chair, her knuckles white as she gripped the unknown item in her hands. A silence followed, heavy and still. Carnistir knew he ought to remain angry, but his ire had cooled and now he knew not what to say in the wake of the look of grief Haleth wore. He sat down once more in the chair across from hers._

_“What…,” he started tentatively. “What have you there?”_

_Haleth bit her lip harshly, her eyes suddenly shining. Nerdanel felt Carnistir’s chest clench in sympathy for her and then his own ensuing surprise and discomfort at that fact._

_Haleth’s fingers uncurled to reveal what appeared to be some sort of medallion. It was small and wooden, but well-made. In its round face was carved an intricate geometric design, beautiful even to his Noldorin sensibilities about craftsmanship._

_Curiously, Carnistir’s hand reached out to touch the strange thing. His long fingers traced its graven lines. Somehow, there was the unnameable sense that in this item, some power lived. He looked up at her and found her eyes still bright in sorrow. Her brow had furrowed and she looked as though another moment might draw her to tears._

_“What does this mean, lady?” he asked her, suddenly aware of how close she was._

_Haleth breathed in slowly through her nose, steadying herself. “It was my father’s,” she said simply. “It is mine now.”_

_“Does he... leave you with much responsibility?”_

_Haleth understood the implication. “Yes...he-he was_ halad _. This being given to me means I am_ halad _now. Chieftain, you would say. Though it is more like guardian in my language.”_

_“I see,” he replied. “And has he no son to take up this mantle?”_

_At this, she looked away from him sharply, turning her face._

_Still not looking at him, Haleth spoke softly, “He did have a son. Haldar...He was my….I do not know the word. I shared the womb with my brother?”_

_“Twin brother,” Carnistir said simply. Haleth did not need to say more in explanation. Her father had had a son, but did no longer._

_Sympathy and care he did not know he possessed welled in him for this woman who, minutes ago, had lambasted him and his people alike. He could not explain why there seemed a vice around his chest at the sight of this stranger in distress. Perhaps it was because he loved Amras and had been with him when Amrod burned and knew what that did to someone. That must be it, surely._

_“It is not the way of my people for sons to inherit in any case,” Haleth continued, trying to will the tears from her eyes. “Unless there be no daughter, of course. Haldad, my father, had already been made lord of our people when he knew his own mind afresh and realized he was man and not woman, as he had been known before. None wished to replace him as_ halad _, nor to have any other chieftain. It was he that bore Haldar and I. Man and_ halad _as he was, it is still not our way. I was always his heir. I will--I will take up his place now.”_

_Nerdanel could feel Carnistir wishing he could offer this strange woman some comfort and not knowing how._

_“My condolences for your losses,” he began awkwardly, “I know well what it is to lose one’s kin and home and that it can be—”_

_“Shut up.”_

_He blinked._

_Haleth was looking at him, thin tears leaking from her eyes even as fire woke behind them again. “I am not a widower to be held and consoled, elf.”_

_His nostrils flared. “I would not bother to if you were, Adaneth,” he replied contemptuously. Uncomfortably, he had the strange feeling that that was not quite true._

The memory dissipated and Nerdanel found herself once again in her chair by the window beside her son.

“I had never met anyone who spoke to me as she did, with no inherent respect. Her trust had to be earned. And her people had had some poor dealing with the Moriquendi, I believe, which prejudiced her against me at first. And my wife… she was so proud. To Haleth, much suffering was preferable to the Haladin being condescended to and demeaned as a people.”

Nerdanel nodded. “A formidable woman, to be sure. Not unlike you, you know.”

“Yes,” Carnistir agreed. “I know… I know it may seem strange to think that great love came of such a meeting but….Haleth was different to me, a person apart from the very beginning.”

“It is not strange to me at all. You forget, I am wed to your father. For some, love comes as gentle words and sweet things. For such as we it comes as a tempest, an argument you cannot bear to leave. There is no shame in that.” 

Carnistir nodded in agreement, and opened his mouth to continue his tale, but then his face shifted from the solemn look he had worn for so long into one of vague embarrassment. His brow furrowed in uncertainty. 

“Hm. I--well--I’m not really sure how to continue telling of Haleth and I,” he said awkwardly, “I wish to tell of her but....”

Nerdanel gave him a questioning look, uncertain where this embarrassment was coming from. He continued, not meeting her eyes.

“It was not a proper courtship by any stretch of the imagination. At least, not at first. I...well…we...our relationship was-- We were at odds with each other, over everything it seemed. She was infuriating in how she questioned my every decision, in my own lands! Her ways were strange to me in every respect. And yet I found that among all of that I respected her. She was as proud as I was. She was my….my friend.”

Nerdanel’s eyebrows rose. “Your friend?”

He was blushing, refusing to meet her eyes. “Yes. She was my friend and she was very beautiful and...though I had never done such things before...we found companionship in each other.”

Nerdanel threw her head back and laughed. Suddenly, she understood what it was that her son was trying valiantly not to tell her.

“You were bedfellows, you mean,” she said, looking thoroughly amused. “Though no words of promise had passed between you.”

Carnistir winced, his face still bright red. She had named him well. “....Yes.”

Nerdanel could not hide her amusement. “There is no need to be so embarrassed. I am well aware of sex. I have seven sons and I can confidently assure you that not one of you came to me by romantic gazes or words of affection alone.”

“Mother!” Carnistir cried.

“It is true! And if you were under the impression your father and I were ignorant of each other when we were married, you can think again. The countryside around my father’s home had seen things so thoroughly unmentionable they could make the trees blush!” 

Carnistir choked, his face flushed more brightly than Nerdanel had ever seen it, which was saying something. He was red all the way to the tips of his ears. For a minute he did not say anything, looking utterly mortified. 

“I do not tell you this to make you uncomfortable,” she sighed, “I only mean that you should not think I believe there is any shame in your relationship with your wife or feel the need to hide it from me. Sharing bodies is an intimate thing for our kind, but not in the way of the old laws, necessarily, as you well know. And such things are doubtless different for the Atani, as they are a different people. You need not speak of anything overly private, but you are wrong if you think I would look down upon you for this.”

After a moment he nodded, his blush beginning to fade.

“I understand,” he said, despite his embarrassment. “It would not be terrible to me if--if _my_ son wanted to speak to me about this. I would guide my children in any way I could. It is only because--”

“Because I am your mother. And we have never spoken of this because your father was the one to explain such things to you,” she told him with a fond, mournful look.

He nodded and said nothing. He looked out the window and into the rain again and wrung his hands in his customary way before continuing.

“In the beginning, Haleth and I _were_ only friends, and I think it really was so simple for her. I was a friend and she… desired me and, partly because she was one of the haladin, partly just because she was Haleth, she felt no shame at all in...asking for me. I had no idea what I was doing, but I … wished for her in return. In another life, I might have refused or resisted because such a thing was unorthodox in every respect. But, I had already broken with all I knew and held dear, done things I could not have imagined. What was one more? It was much easier for me to admit to carnality than it was to admit that I cared for her. And so I agreed to this...relationship of bodies shared between friends. I knew that some elves did such things, not so casually, of course, but I knew that intimacy existed between some partners who loved without romance, and that some romantic pairs never lay together. Why must this be different? It was just another strangeness in Beleriand. My love was not a deception against her, not knowingly. I did not believe it was there. I was lying to myself. I did not want to love, I did not want to have a weakness. I had seen what it did to _Atar_ when--”

He broke off and looked at Nerdanel in alarm, but she only shook her head. 

“He grew weak without the love between us, my son, not because of it,” she said, with no hurt in her tone.

He nodded. “I know that now. But then it seemed to me that it would make me fallible. And so I told myself that there was nothing but... bodies between us, I told it to myself so much that I believed it. But...I could not run forever. It began to torment me how much I cared for her, this woman who shared my bed but not my hand. And eventually, when she was leaving, I could not hide anymore.”

Carnistir swallowed hard, the muscle in his jaw clenching visibly. He opened his mind again, light somehow shining through the cracks in his damaged fëa before her eyes. 

_Haleth leaned back in a comfortable chair by the fireplace, a glass of wine in one hand. She and Carnistir were alone, with no servants or other companions to be seen and it was late, for cold moonlight spilled in through a window to one side. Again, Nerdanel found that Haleth all but glowed in Carnistir’s mind. The details of the room were hazy, as though he had not bothered to commit them to memory, but Haleth herself was recalled with meticulous care. The orange firelight illuminated her face. Now that she was not coated in the residue of battle as she had been in his first memory, Nerdanel could see her better. She was...no she-elf that was for sure, though it was not a bad thing. She had a harsh look to her- Haleth’s face was proud; she had a strong jawline and a slightly crooked nose across which many freckles were splayed. The warm light glinted on her golden curls which hung loose about her. There was a certain earthliness to her as though she was bound to the land. Like stone unhewn she was... rough somehow and yet beautiful still in her way._

_Haleth sipped from her glass. “We leave Thargelion in a fortnight,” she said. “All is made ready.”_

_Carnistir nodded. He had already known this. Haleth was leaving and moving on to other things. Haleth was never going to spend evenings such as this with him again. He would not hear her familiar voice antagonize him nor feel her touch against his skin. In her grief and hardship, someone else would stand at her side. It should not have mattered. That had always been the promised end to this and yet—it was suddenly beyond bearing._

_He was becoming aware that in his life Haleth had been as the bright sun rising in the sky, a blaze of light after the longest night he had ever known. He feared now that he had grown used to the sun, and in its absence he would wander, blind and freezing, through the long dark. What fitting punishment._

_He stood abruptly and turned away from her to stare out the window, fighting for control. He swallowed hard, his eyes stinging, and the rings he wore clinked against each other as his hand clenched and unclenched in distress._

_“So you are going, then,” he managed finally, grateful that Haleth could not see his face._

_A moment passed. “We are. This land is stained by our losses here. And you know that if we could we would bow to no one, not even you. What say you, Caranthir?”_

_He squeezed his eyes shut and bit the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood._

_“It will be dangerous, the path you mean to take,” he replied. “But I do not advise against it. I know your reasons. I know it is more to you even than chafing at calling any man lord. You are restless, there is much grief here. I...understand. There are many places I would never live again.”_

_This was only reasonable, he knew. An action that made sense for Haleth to lead her people to. This land, to them, held great pain and they wished to move on. Culturally they were a people who did not wish to kneel, proud enough to put the Noldor to shame. They did not wish to owe him fealty. The knowledge did nothing to halt the cataclysm in his chest._

_“And yet you are not happy,” he heard her say from behind him. It was not a question. He was not happy. No, he was not. How could he be?_

_He could not think of anything to say. There were no words in any tongue he knew for this, and even if there had been he could not have forced them out. One of his cousins, perhaps, might have been able to find some gentle poetry which could capture the ruinous feeling that threatened him now, but he was none of them. Haleth would find such a thing laughable, anyway._

_He stayed staring out the window unseeing for a time, until he heard her get up from her chair and then felt the warm press of her hand at his back. Slowly, he turned to face her._

_“Caranthir, my people must go,” she said, looking up at him. “There is no other way.”_

_He lifted his hand up to cup her face before he could stop himself. “And I know that. I do not mean to stop you. It is only…”_

_He paused for a moment, all the world seeming to flit out of existence save the stern mortal woman who stood before him. Fool he might have been, but coward he was not._

_“...It is only that I love you,” he swallowed, “That is all.”_

_Haleth took a slow breath in and then looked up at him._

_“You’re a damned fool, Elf,” she told him. For once, he did not fight her on it._

_His eyes stung. “So I am, Adaneth.”_

_She moved closer to him, laying her head against his chest. He savored the warmth of her, knowing it was not to last, wishing to burn alive in this last shred of sunlight before the long cold._

_“It is well then,” she whispered against him, “that we are fools together.”_

_Oh._

_He could not have said anything then if it had meant his life, but as he drew his arms up around her, his hands trembled. For her it seemed, that was enough. Haleth already knew. She always did._

The memory fell away, the living world returning before Nerdanel’s eyes. Carnistir looked so freshly grieved that she feared he would weep again.

So that was the beginning then. The start of this strange misshapen love which had been everything to him, which had brought him the children he now mourned with every breath. It was inauspicious, perhaps, but Nerdanel was glad that she knew of it now. So this was the life her boy had lived, this was the man he had become. 

As the rain outside grew heavier, she wondered what more it had come to before the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have taken more than a few creative liberties with canon timeline of the haladin here with regard to how long the haladin had been in thargelion and their degree of their interaction with the nandor/laegil beforehand. by this timeline, the haladin have only been in thargelion about a decade, and haleth can remember the time before. but the main thing you may notice is that haleth speaks an elvish tongue with caranthir. this is a stretch, but there is some basis for it - the haladin did canonically meet the laegil, who were unfriendly to them. the laegil would have spoken nandorin which, while not the same as sindarin, is another telerin language which i have made semi-mutually intelligible with sindarin on the grounds that i can. 
> 
> i'm not going to gloss all the quenya and sindarin for you here - anything used can be found on elfdict.com
> 
> you may notice that quenya and sindarin are both used here, this is intentional as nerdanel speaks quenya to caranthir, and uses his quenya name, but in caranthir's memories of beleriand, sindarin is used. 
> 
> also the word "mayfiadin" appears as a haladin-language insult. you won't find it anywhere because i entirely made it up. it's meant to mean something like "bastards".


	2. in memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> caranthir continues to recount his life with haleth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- please note that the rating for this fic has gone up!  
> \- individual chapter warning for mentions of sex and unplanned pregnancy.

**Carnistir**

Carnistir sat in silence for a time. He watched as the rain fell in a torrent through the window, a storm having gathered since he sat down. It was the sort of violent rain that one knew could not last long. He felt strange. In a short time he had revealed a secret he had held silently for millennia. 

He knew now that he would have to go on telling, that Haleth and the children deserved the dignity of being remembered and yet… it seemed impossible.

It would hurt to speak of them, yes, but it was more than that. It seemed impossible to capture all that his wife and children had been by simply telling about them. How could one describe in words alone the sound of his wife’s laughter or the way it had felt to hold his son and daughter for the first time?

Even if he showed his mother his memories as he had been doing, snippets of the life he could remember—mere heartbeats taken out of a whole existence—could not truly render all that they had been. 

How do you summarize a whole person, bright and alive and _beloved_ with a handful of moments? He did not know, but he knew he owed it to them to try.

“Haleth left Thargelion as she had promised to,” he told his mother, “And though it was good to know that in some capacity she returned my affections, in other ways it made the parting more bitter. Love, it seemed, could not overpower duty.”

“You did not ask her to stay?” Nerdanel replied.

He bit his lip, “No. There have been times that I wished I had, especially given that the children came later. But I understood her reasoning and … I could never stand to hold Haleth back from anything she wanted. The histories recorded her pride, but they never did justice to her ambition. It was true that grief for her brother and father made her more reckless and that pride held her from swearing fealty to another lord, but more than anything she saw a future for her people that lay west and she strove to bring it to them. Perhaps I should have tried to convince her that an equal future might lay in my lands, one which could have spared the Haladin many trials but ...not for nothing am I a Fëanárion. We are not known to stand in the way of ambition, even reckless ambition.” 

Nerdanel gave a somber nod. “But you saw her again. You must have.”

“Yes. I questioned myself in that time and did little. Haleth was mortal, anyway, what was I thinking to love her? And she had made her choice to go. Why should I keep chasing her?”

“She had not chosen you and you stayed in your keep licking your wounds for a time, you mean,” Nerdanel smirked. 

“....Yes, that too,” he replied wryly. “But in time I received word they had settled in Brethil and I convinced myself that an ally so close to Doriath would be prudent—don’t laugh! I truly did justify it to myself that way. And privately, I thought I might help her, convince her to accept aid indirectly under the guise of some sort of trade agreement. Building a wholly new settlement is no simple thing and I feared for her. Under that pretense, I travelled to see her again.”

Carnistir opened his mind, reaching out to his mother’s spirit with his own. 

_He was met by guards before he ever saw her. He stood, stopped at the edge of their fledgling settlement. The forest here was strange to him, more awake somehow in a way that unsettled him. The trees obscured much of the sunlight, giving an eerie greenish cast to the place. Perhaps he was simply too much a Noldo to love such a place, but he did not think he imagined that one could sense the nearness of Nan Dungortheb here. In any case, he stood before the guards, arguing. The Haladin recognized him, of course, but were as famously protective of Haleth as he remembered, and would not take him to her._

_“I seek your lady,” he said sternly, for about the third time, “I seek Haleth.”_

_The young captain sized him up, his hand still near the axe at his belt. “And on what account, sir?”_

_He scowled. “Matters of business between the Haladin and myself.”_

_The assembled guards considered this amongst themselves. From what he could gather, two of them thought it best to allow him among them, and the third nearest him disagreed. He was cold and exhausted from the long journey and half thought to simply threaten them into helping him. Just when he was beginning to grow frustrated, a familiar voice cut through the cold air._

_“What is the meaning of this?”_

_Carnistir turned his head sharply and his breath caught._

_Haleth stood before him, slightly changed by the year and some months apart but no less than he remembered her. Her golden curls were braided back in her customary way and her face was flushed from the cold. Suddenly, the relief of seeing her was overwhelming. He had not known how dreadfully her absence ached in him until that moment. She could yell at him all she wanted, he didn’t care. Damn his soul, he had missed her._

_“Lord Caranthir….,” she breathed, looking as surprised as he felt._

_He bowed his head, “Lady Haleth.”_

_She stared at him for a long moment and he flattered himself she was taking in the sight of him. “To what do we owe your presence?”_

_A moment passed before he remembered what his answer was supposed to be._

_“Matters of business,” he repeated._

_Haleth leveled him with a piercing stare as though trying to see through him. This was the problem with trying to tell Haleth anything that was only half true-- she always saw straight through him no matter what he did. For a few seconds, he half thought she was going to send him away._

_“You had better come with me, then,” she declared finally and turned on her heel, leaving him to hurry behind._

_As they walked, he looked around them. The settlement was newly begun, as he had first thought, but homes had begun to crop up from within the trees. He was familiar enough with the Haladin manner of life, and was relieved to see it did not seem terribly disrupted here in spite of their long journey. It was truly impressive that they had crossed such ground in that amount of time and managed to form some kind of home for themselves here as well. He knew they had likely been helped by the other Edain, but still that they had made such a journey and settled in so short a time was no small feat. Only the Noldor, he thought, might lay claim to being as hardy a people as the Haladin._

_Haleth led him to a small wooden dwelling at the center of the settlement atop a round hill._

_The inside had few furnishings but furs lined the floor and doorway for warmth and a fire burned in a pit at the center of the room. It was simple, but he felt relief that she was at least reasonably sheltered._

_She gestured for him to sit at a table that was plainly made for someone significantly shorter than he was and when he did so, she finally turned to him, still standing. He felt a flash of irritation. She always tried to maneuver their conversations such that she could stand while he sat so that he did not tower over her._

_“So,” she pronounced, “Why have you truly come here, elf?”_

_He paused. “As I said, business. Trade reasons.”_

_“Trade reasons?” she replied, raising one brow. She stared at him in a way that made him feel terribly bare._

_“Yes...I believe I have come to a trade scheme which may prove beneficial to us both, if you are willing.”_

_“Alright,” she said, her skepticism apparent. “Tell me of this trade scheme.”_

_“A great deal of wealth and goods pass through my lands. As such, it is not uncommon that caravans of traders pass east and west, from my lands through to the rest of Beleriand. Those that travel to Barad Eithel pass not far from here.”_

_Her brow furrowed. “And….?”_

_“And it would be within my power to see that they came south to you to trade here as well. The Haladin could find such business lucrative, and helpful in beginning this settlement here.”_

_Haleth pushed a stray hair behind her ear and did not look particularly impressed._

_“In some years, that might be more useful. But at the moment we have little to trade, we are living off of the land. The journey was arduous, to say the least. Many lives were lost. And at the moment we do what we can to sustain ourselves with little thought to finery.”_

_Carnistir gritted his teeth. Of course she would see through this ruse, but he had to try. He knew better than to offer aid outright. She would see it as charity and refuse on principle. But he was … trying to help her, even if he struggled to admit it._

_He had tried to convince himself since the day she left that he had done all he could and she had refused and he should give up the game, but somehow he could not bring himself to. Something deep in him simply revolted at the idea of doing nothing for her._

_That was why he was here, threatening dangerously near to making a fool of himself._

_“I have seen the furs your folk trap and wear here,” he replied evenly, hoping his tone was more aloof than he felt._

_She looked at him quizzically. “What of them? It is colder here and we must keep warm somehow.”_

_“The pelts are valuable and the animals are scarce outside Doriath. I presume the Haladin are as careful not to over-hunt here as you were in Thargelion. But...if some could be spared, you would find people willing to trade them for grain and livestock and things you must be in want of.”_

_There was a long pause._

_“Caranthir,” she said. “Even if you are right, you are being dishonest. I am not going to ask again. What are you doing here?”_

_“I am trying to establish a trade relationship, as I said. Nothing more,” he told her stubbornly._

_“Liar,” she sniped, “You may be doing that also, but it is not the whole of it.”_

_Carnistir fidgeted with the house ring on his right hand. “Allies near Doriath are ever of use to me and mine. I am seeking an alliance, which I would be happy to give this help in exchange for.”_

_Haleth laughed wryly._

_“Mother at rest, you are so full of shit, elf. You are trying to shield me and my people even though we have passed beyond your lands and influence, even though I already refused that protection outright on several occasions! Admit it!”_

_She stared him down, her eyes bright in outrage. There was something mesmerizing about her like this. Wild, relentless, and furious with him._

_“Is that so terrible?” he ground out, his own temper rising, “Is it so awful that I know you have crossed Nan Dungortheb and now seek to establish a new settlement in Elu Thingol’s front parlor of all Eru forsaken places and I am worried? You know I am not come to demand anything of you! I never have! Is it so criminal to try and help you?”_

_“Help? No, your help is not terrible to me, though I am uncertain why you bother. But your deceit is. Why do you condescend to lie to me about trade and matters of business instead of speaking plainly what you mean?”_

_Carnistir scowled. “So that your damnable pride might allow you to accept someone’s aid. Is that so heinous? And do not ask why I seek to help you. Don’t you dare! You know why I would help you, why I would go to such lengths. You know that I care, Haleth, do not make it a club with which to bludgeon me.”_

_She held his gaze for a long moment, her jaw set and her brow furrowed in accusation, but then the tension broke and her face softened. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Haleth stepped closer to him again. Carnistir still sat, but the chair was pushed away from the table and Haleth came to stand between his knees._

_“It has been a long year, Moryo,” she said, and his chest tightened to hear the Quenya in her mouth. “And here we are, snapping at each other the moment we meet again.”_

_He swallowed hard. She was so near he could sense her spirit, bright and burning, and he felt his own fëa tremble. He had told her he loved her, and spent the next year trying to convince himself to forget it. There was no forgetting. He knew that now, when she stood like this before him. He had never felt like this for another soul before and never would for another._

_“You would not be yourself,” he replied lowly, “If you did not manage to snap at me.”_

_“The same could be said of you,” she breathed. “And you deserve it. Marching in here like I wouldn’t know you were bluffing. It’s in your eyes. It’s always in your eyes.”_

_He quaked at the affection he heard in her voice. She moved her hand to cup his cheek and he had no shame in shutting his eyes and leaning into the touch._

_“Did you not say I was a fool in loving you?” he whispered._

_In answer she leaned forward and kissed him, her mouth hot against his. It was intoxicating, to feel her again like this. Her hand tangled in his hair and --_

Carnistir pulled away from the memory abruptly, finding himself flushed. He had not entirely meant for his mother to see that last moment and was _very_ grateful he had not been too caught up in the recollection to remember to end the memory there. There were some things mothers did not need to know. The slight embarrassment, at least, held the grief at bay.

If Nerdanel felt any discomfort, however, she did not show it. 

“You reconciled well enough, then,” Nerdanel said, amused. 

Carnistir choked. “Yes…. and she did accept help in the end. I had to be discreet about it, but aid came to the Haladin from the east.”

“So you were together again, though your courtship must have remained unorthodox. Did you ask for her hand, then?”

“No, not yet. But when the time came, she asked for mine. Well, _asked_ is really the wrong word. Haleth _informed_ me that if I was agreeable, she would have me for her husband. And it was… an absurd proposition, really. What business had I to take a wife at a time like that, let alone one of the Atani? But… my heart knew no reason. Not when it was her. It never had.”

“You wed in secret, then?”

He bit his lip. “Yes. I have never been ashamed of Haleth, not for a moment. Our bond was known among the Haladin to some degree. As a folk, they were so secretive and fiercely protective of their lady that it mattered little that they did. But if the Eldar knew? The complications would have been many. For a Lord of the Noldor to join himself with a lady of the Edain was unheard of. It would have been a political spectacle, one neither she nor I had any interest in. And there were other complications. The wife of a son of Fëanáro? Known to be living in Elwë’s forest? It does not bear considering.”

“That I can understand, I suppose,” Nerdanel replied, “But not even your brothers, child? You cannot truly believe they would have scorned your wife, even if they did not understand your choice.”

Carnistir turned to look out the rain streaked window again. The answer to that question, he did not himself know. In truth, he had simply not known how. There was the matter of the political complications and the personal questions about the fate of their marriage, but if he were honest he had just been unable to find the words. 

His love of Haleth was one thing he had for himself in the world, and at times it felt too sacred to speak of. That he had managed to tell as much to his mother at present was nigh on a miracle. 

“I don’t know,” he said finally, feeling mournful. “I wish I did. There were the same practical concerns, the fear that they would reject my marriage, I suppose, but in reality I was just content to keep this secret for myself. Not out of shame, but...out of the need to guard it, to guard her.”

Carnistir’s chest felt tight. Thinking of Haleth, speaking of her like this, felt good at the same time it hurt. It was the perverse joy that came from opening an old wound so that you could have the comfort of bandaging it again.

“The day we were bonded,” he managed to say after a moment, “was one of the happiest days of my life. The wedding was mostly a mannish affair. No one stood for me, obviously. But I insisted on some things. For one, I saw that she had a ring. Such was not the custom of the Haladin, for they inked their skin to indicate marriage bonds rather than wearing jewelry. I had the inking, too—”

Carnistir gestured to his chest on the left side above his heart “—just here.”

He gritted his teeth, his face suddenly stormy. “It was not her name, for the Haladin had no letters, but a sigil of her house. She did it herself…..and I _hate_ that this body is unmarked. It feels as a sacrilege to me. How can a body truly be mine if it is not hers also? That mark was not a blemish to be struck away, it _mattered_. This body is alien to me. It is not truly _mine_ because it was not the one Haleth held, it is not the one that made our children.” 

His breathing was coming too quickly again and he could feel tears threatening once more. He cursed himself. He had not meant to become distracted. He was trying to talk about his _wedding_ , a good memory if there ever was one.

Nerdanel gave him a mournful look. “I understand what you mean, in some sense. You are my son, Carnistir, and your _fëa_ is formed of my own. But it is...hard to know that the man I see before me now is not housed in the body which I made, which I nursed and watched grow strong. That body is lost somewhere far from here. Our spirits can survive without our bodies, but there is still a connection and its severance is...alien.”

“Yes, that is it. I feel...alive, of course, but changed in a way I mislike. I do not understand Námo’s design in this. I know my original body cannot be returned to me, but this one is wholly unmarked, unblemished as though it never experienced anything at all. It is not as though giving me a new pair of hands can unbloody them. Stains of that kind are on the soul. And even if it could, I would not choose that. I would rather have my own hands -- murderer’s hands -- that also held my wife, my children, my brothers - than clean ones that have never felt any of those things.”

Nerdanel reached out and took his hand and he knew she must sense him growing overwhelmed again. 

“But I suppose it is that...I repent of my crimes,” he said, “I feel remorse for those I slew. If there was some way to un-do it, I would. But I cannot...I cannot wish that we never saw Beleriand, or that I had remained behind. I feel as if that is what is being pretended at.”

“Much of the reborn and returned folk I have known would say the same,” Nerdanel replied. “You are not alone in that respect. Good things came of all the suffering and evil.”

Carnistir bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood and steadied himself. “Forgive me, _Amil_ , I have grown distracted, I fear. I was trying to tell of my wedding.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she shook her head. “Whatever you would speak of, I would hear.”

Nevertheless, he opened his mind to her again, determined to carry on in his tale. What he could not seem to tell, he would show. He had to.

_He stood in a clearing in the forest, a little meadow where the ground was covered with some small white flower he had no name for. It was warm and the sun shone through the trees. In front of him stood Haleth, as beautiful as he had ever seen her. Her curls hung loose about her and her eyes were bright with open joy._

_She had objected to too much jewelry from him despite his assertion that such was traditional for a groom to give his bride among his people, but she had consented to one jewel from him. At her throat hung a large ruby, cut so finely it sparkled in the dappled light._

_Perhaps the jewel contrasted to the rest of her. It was plainly elvish, and even more plainly Noldorin. Apart from it, she wore only a simple brown wrapped dress and earrings of carved animal bone. These things were mannish, Haladin. But it felt right, nonetheless. That their bonding should be a mixing of unlike things, joined despite the apparent contrasts._

_The ceremony itself was done in the Haladin tongue, which even now Carnistir found hard to translate and so he showed his mother only snippets in his mind; Haleth’s proud voice ringing out as she claimed him for her own, the elder wise-woman blessing them - praying for their happiness to the Creator, whom the Haladin knew as the Mother._

_He gave the mannish vows in taliska, but after them insisted on giving his own. He was a Noldo, and vows he took were to be made in Quenya._

_Her hand was warm in his when he slid the ring onto her finger._

_He breathed in, almost choking on the enormity of it all, and then gave the ancient words, “With this ring you are made holy to me, by the laws of my forebears and my homeland.”_

_So his father had said to his mother, so had his brothers and cousins said to their wives, and now he had done so to Haleth._

_There were other words said after that, cheers that rang out, and cries of celebration, but he could not hear them._

_He only saw Haleth, her hand still clasped in his own. Her spirit blazed in her eyes, and he felt it — all at once clasped with his own._

_Carnistir knew that they had already been bonded in a sense, that his fëa clung to hers in some semblance of a marriage bond - but this was different, wholly different. This was her choosing him, marking him out among all creatures as her own. And in turn she was his. He could feel her spirit in him, and his own in her — two lights mingled._

The memory dissipated and he found his face wet with tears again. The bond—the feeling of Haleth’s spirit sewn into his own was one he would miss for all time. He could feel the place on him where she should be, the ragged mass of scar tissue where she had been torn away. Remembering the forging of that bond made him keenly aware of its absence. 

“Oh, _yonya_ ,” Nerdanel said, “Would that I could ease this for you.”

Carnistir shook his head, words beyond him for the moment. Outside, the storm had slowed into a soft drizzle that pattered against the window. He felt cracked open, bleeding.

He sat that way for another moment, wiping his tears away and trying to calm himself. There would be time for him to break later, for now he had a story to tell.

“I stayed for a time, and then returned to my lands. It was a strange way to be married,” he said eventually, “to be wed and make no home together. I could only visit some of the time, but...it was enough. It had to be.”

Nerdanel hummed. “Think not that I pass judgement on you,” she said, “But I confess myself surprised you would choose to have a child in such a circumstance, thus parted. Was it because you knew your time was to be limited?”

Carnistir blinked, startled out of his grief. He shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“It-it is…,” he stammered, “ _Ammë_ , the children were...well they were a blessing, of course, but… they were also an accident. Haleth and I did not intend to make them.”

“An accident?” Nerdanel repeated incredulously. 

“Yes...the _Atani_ are not like we who may choose when we beget children. Any time they are...intimate with one another in the generative manner, it is possible that children follow.”

Nerdanel stared. 

“Furthermore, we had never heard of any children being born between our peoples. We had no reason to believe it was even possible. Believe me, I was as surprised as you are when she told me. It...it was something of a cultural misunderstanding between us, given we had each assumed the other begat children in the same manner we did. I assumed she and I would have no children unless we sought to do so, and she assumed I was aware of the risk we might.”

“ _Ai_ ,” Nerdanel exclaimed, “Quite a surprise the two of you must have had.”

Carnistir nodded and felt himself growing embarrassed again. 

“Mother, I... wish to show you when I learned of my children, for it is important to this story. But...well, I am afraid that some of the conversation about...about how it was I had come to be a father was rather more indelicate,” he told her. His face felt hot and he knew he must be blushing. 

Nerdanel only looked vaguely amused. “While I confess this difference of the _Atani_ to be a shock to me, there is little else you could tell me that would be. As I told you, I have seven of you and I am thoroughly aware of how that came to be. Do not think that you will offend me.”

_Carnistir was sat in Haleth’s house, having just arrived from Thargelion. He was weary, and leaned back in the short chair as a result. For herself, Haleth was watching him closely, as though waiting for him to notice something and comment upon it. Not knowing quite what he was meant to be seeing, he felt nervous._

_“Is there something amiss?” he asked._

_She breathed out steadily. “Amiss? No. I just… wondered if you might not guess already. Others have.”_

_Swallowing, he shook his head._

_“Tell me,” he said to his wife, “What do you mean by this? You worry me.”_

_“It is no evil, do not fret. It is…,” there was a long pause, “...I am simply with child, Caranthir.”_

_He choked._

_“What—I—But—How?” he spluttered._

_There was a long pause._

_“What do you mean_ **_how_** _?”_

_“How can you be with child? How is that even possible?” He ran a shaking hand through his hair, his heart hammering._

_For her part, Haleth looked utterly incredulous. She stared at him in open mouthed confusion before responding._

_“I realize that this shocks you. I did not expect you to greet the news without some trepidation, but are you genuinely asking me how we could’ve made a child? Because strangely I seem to recall countless occasions on which I’ve had your cock inside me!”_

_“No, no! Not that. I know that we’ve fucked, Haleth. By my name, we are married. But we weren’t trying to make a child. I did not will it so. I did not know you did. So if you would be so good as to enlighten me as to how in Arda it can have happened!”_

_Haleth looked at him for a long moment and then pinched the bridge of her nose, looking uncharacteristically weary._

_“I think,” she said finally, “I am going to have to ask you how it is that elves generally have children.”_

_Carnistir blinked. “What do you mean?”_

_“Is it normally the case among your people that… will is necessary to make a child? Or something more than sex?” she asked._

_For a moment he wanted to look at her incredulously, of course will is required, who goes around making a child without meaning to, but he halted himself. He did not want to yell at Haleth. Especially not now._

_“Yes…,” he replied slowly, somehow hearing again his father explaining this to him as a boy. “When a couple wish to have a child… they will it so. It cannot happen otherwise. It is a matter of that shared want in their spirits joining to allow a new life to be made. Of course, their bodies have to join as much as the spirits do, but... Yes. It’s more than just sex. I….is it not so to your people?”_

_She shook her head. “It’s just the fucking for us, really. No elvish spirits or joining of wills or any such thing. Where there is sex between young and unlike bodies, a child may follow.”_

_Eru. To make new life at any time, regardless of war or famine or even willingness. He had, of course, noticed that men seemed to have a great deal more children more quickly than elves, but he thought it was because their lives were shorter it was not as though one went around interrogating strangers about why they chose to have children — such a thing was no one’s business but the parents._

_But this meant … this meant that he and Haleth had made a child. A little life, new and unlooked for that was theirs together, that they had wrought in their love however unaware they had been._

_He took a shaking breath. “So then we….,” he said hoarsely, “We have a child.”_

_“We certainly will come the summer.”_

_A child. He was going to have a child with Haleth. A babe born of the Eldar and Atani and itself … both? Or something new entirely? Who had known such a thing was even possible? Had such a child ever existed before? His breaths were coming too fast in his panic. He wished suddenly that his marriage were not secret — he wished that he could seek the help of his brothers. He wanted to look to Maitimo for reassurance and guidance, he wanted the comfort of Makalaurë’s gentle presence. He wanted to ask his little brother about fatherhood and damn his soul — he wanted his own father, desperately._

_He did not realize how much he was shaking until he heard the wooden table rattling beneath his hands. Contrary to what one might have expected, Haleth was looking at him with a sort of solemn tenderness. He thought that she ought to be furious that he was so uncertain, so frightened — not the uncomplicated joy he had seen in other elves when their spouses told them. But Haleth had ever seen him as he was, flawed and angry and off-putting, and chosen him anyway._

_“Husband,” she said evenly, “I know that you did not choose this. It seems you must have been unaware even of the risk. If I had known I would have warned you, but then how could I? I have never warned you that the sun sets in the evening and rises again in the morning. It simply does. It is a fact of this life everyone I have ever run across would know. Such is this to me. Any man of my people knows that, unless one of them is unable, whenever he lays with a woman, he may find himself a father after. Do not think that I fault you for not knowing, how could you? But do not think either that I meant to take your choice from you.”_

_Carnistir shook his head. His wife was many things, harsh and snappish and accursedly stubborn, but cruel or manipulative was not one of them. He had never thought that of her. He met her eyes and wished, not for the first time, that he was better with words. His hands still shook and the rings on his fingers rattled as he fought for control of himself._

_Haleth only waited patiently. He had not been certain what he expected of marriage, whether it would be as passionate and overwhelming as some said or a steady, profound bond he had seen in others. In truth, it was both. But more than either it was simply that they saw each other. More than anything else, he could say that he knew Haleth and was known in return. He was bare to her, all of him vulnerable and visible even when he wished to be hidden. It was one thing to be loved from afar as an abstract thing, and another entirely to be seen in all your monstrous ugliness and imperfection and chosen anyway._

_With her there was no need to pretend to be better than he was, because Haleth already knew him. And so when words finally came they were more of a confession and less the reassurance she deserved._

_“I’m afraid,” he said hoarsely. “I’m afraid, Haleth.”_

_She nodded. “A child is a great undertaking.”_

_“It’s not… it’s not that so much. I...I have never been a father before, but I am the middle brother of seven. I know more than a little of caring for children. And having a child is not hateful to me. It is not...not anguish I feel at the thought of them. I only… I don’t want to be a bad father. My own father loved us all desperately but he… at the end of his life he was...I cannot do that to a child.”_

_“Then you will not,” said Haleth, with an unwavering certainty._

_He was not so sure. He was doomed and bound to fight this war, to carry out his dread oath until the end of all things. He feared to bind a child to such a thing, to bring danger to them._

_Haleth must have seen his lack of confidence. “Caranthir, you are the most stubborn ass of a man I have ever met.”_

_He stared back at her._

_“And in this case,” she continued, “That is a good thing. When you want something, you push for it and damn the consequences. Your will bends to almost nothing. If your will is to be a good father, you will not bend.”_

_Carnistir’s chest swelled that she thought so much of him, that she trusted him._

_“We are going to have a child,” he whispered, smiling slightly in dazed disbelief._

_“We are.”_

_There were things they needed to sort through; With whom would the child be raised? Would they maintain their secrecy? Would he hide their existence from the Noldor, from his brothers? But none of that mattered at the moment. For now, Haleth needed him._

_He stood up from his chair and moved toward her to take her in his arms. She laid her head on his chest in her familiar way._

_“How are you?” he asked after a moment. “How do you feel?”_

_“I am worried about you,” she murmured against him, “But about the baby, I am happy. I look forward to being a mother, and I am glad they are yours.”_

_He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and then reached between them to rest his hand at her belly. He felt where her stomach had just begun to gently round._

_With his fëa he reached out steadily, searching. Almost instantly, he felt it: a spark of life within Haleth’s spirit, not yet a fëa, but something stirring there - brilliant and alive. He choked. That was his little one - his and Haleth’s together and he was overwhelmed by the depth of his feeling for them._

_It was at that moment that he felt a second stirring. A second spark leapt up to meet the flame of his own spirit, a twin light to the first. There were two of them. Two children, not the one._

_The entire world felt shifted beneath his feet. He knew then that there was nothing he would not do for them - no battle he would not fight, no distance he would not cross._

_“Twins,” he managed, “There are two of them, Haleth.”_

_She shifted in his arms in surprise. “What? Surely you cannot know that. It is too soon to even guess!”_

_“What do you mean? I can feel them, their little spirits in you,” he replied in confusion._

_“Oh,” she breathed unevenly. “Twins...like Haldar and I…”_

_He held her more tightly, knowing that she must feel the absence of her brother keenly._

_“Haleth,” he said after a moment, “Know that I will do whatever you ask, whatever our children need. Whatever comes, I will be here.”_

_Carnistir was not good with emotional words or declarations, he never had been. But he needed Haleth to know this. He needed Haleth to know that he was devoted to her and their children, that he loved them._

_“I know,” she replied simply. “I know you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have taken another liberty with the timeline here that you may have noticed, which was having the haladin go straight to brethil rather than remain in estolad for a time. the world is my oyster.


	3. of happier days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> caranthir recalls the birth of his children and begins to see things in a new light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- names: the two original characters are morimíriel halwen and veryafinwë halion. they are called 'morië' and 'veryo' as shortened versions of their quenya names, and 'hal' and 'wen' as shortened versions of their taliska ones.  
> \- mostly just fluff this chapter!  
> \- individual chapter warning for non-explicit childbirth and offhand mentions of death in childbirth, though it does not appear.

**Carnistir**

“We had decided before the children were born that they would remain with Haleth in Brethil,” Carnistir said, his fingers tapping idly on the armrest of his chair. "There was no real question of it. That was the only way that they might remain secret."

“I suppose that if a child must remain with one parent, the mother that nurses it is preferable.” Nerdanel replied, her brows furrowed, "But… a great trial it must have been, nonetheless. The _fëar_ of both parents are needed to nourish a babe, and any mother alone would find twin elflings a difficulty, let alone a mortal one.”

Carnistir did not disagree. “Haleth did not shy from the challenge, but I know that it was one. I would have given anything for her and the children to live in Thargelion with me, to be with them every day and know that they were safe behind walls I defended, warm and fed. But even if Haleth’s pride would have allowed it, it could not have been. She and I were never simply _she and I_ , we were a Chieftain of the Haladin and a Lord of the Noldor. I could not simply forsake Thargelion entirely for her because I was needed to hold the East. She could not leave Brethil for me either, she was needed by the Haladin. I suppose the good in it was that we understood that in each other, that duty which not even love could bend. I often dreamt of what life would be if I were simply a lonely Noldo and she a mere common woman.”

A look of pity came over Nerdanel's face.

“You would not be yourselves, I think. There were times where I wished Fëanáro and I could have simply been a sculptor and a smith making our way, and not _Prince Curufinwë_ and his wife, but your father was so molded by what the world expected of him and who his father was, _yonya_ , I am not certain he would be entirely the same man otherwise.”

“You are right,” he sighed, “and yet it is a pleasant dream, nonetheless, to think of making a home with Haleth and the children. I often dreamt of them living in my halls and growing among my kin.”

“I still do not understand your choice in that matter,” she told him with a frown, “I pass no judgement on you, of course, but still how strange it seems to me. You say that you hid your children from the Noldor for their protection, but surely your brothers, at least, …”

Carnistir swallowed hard. He wondered what his brothers would think if ever they knew about his children, if ever they discovered the enormity of the secrets he had kept from them. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë, surely, would think of it as a grand betrayal, even if only to hide the hurt they would feel at not having been trusted. The Ambarussat, he thought, would not understand, but neither would they blame him. Maitimo would only sigh in that long-suffering, almost fatherly way of his and say, "Oh Morifinwë, what have you done?". Makalaurë, however, would understand, as Makalaurë always did. How Carnistir missed them.

“I thought that perhaps if they were not known to be mine the Doom might not find them. If they lived as Haladin children, not noted by the Eldar or recorded in great tales, perhaps hurt could not find them. I claimed Halion and Halwen as my own and loved them as dearly as any father, do not mistake me, but...I sought to defend them from what being _mine_ truly meant. Of course I wished to share my children with my brothers - how could I not? But it seemed to me that if the others knew that somehow it would expose them. They would belong truly to the House of Fëanáro then and the wrath of the Valar and the curse of Morgoth alike would lay on them.”

It had not mattered in the end, had it? It had not been curses or fates or oaths of evil that had slain them, but their father's error. All along he had looked outside himself for that which might threatened those he loved and never once faced the terrible truth that it might be _him._ He knew better now.

“I wish that I had not hidden them. It was no use in the end. If they were going to be slain like that anyway, I wished that they had lived their short lives in the sun, walking proudly at my side.”

Regret choked him. How different might things have been if he had been better? Would they have lived? Could he have spared them even one day, one hour more? In his distress Carnistir’s _fëa_ seeped out from him like blood from a wound and he could feel it when it met his mother’s spirit opposite him, could feel that she tried to comfort him.

“You chose what you thought would be best for them, with their safety and happiness as your only concern. That is the most any parent can do…. There has been so much grandiose talk about forgiveness for those that have returned. But for whatever amount of forgiveness you might require of others, _yonya_ , you need equal that from yourself, I think. There is no creature, Elda, Ainu, or Atan who can torment you the way you do yourself now.”

Carnistir looked away and said nothing. Perhaps if his mother kept saying that he might believe it. The problem was that he had no real desire to forgive himself. It seemed profane to even suggest. Would it not be one final transgression against them to forgive what he had done? He was an elf who held grudges to the last, even when the hated person was himself.

He ran a hand through his shorn hair and exhaled shakily. _The tale must go on, Moryo_ , he told himself, _no matter what you feel._

_Summer had come to Beleriand and it was so warm that even in Brethil where the canopy of trees muddied the sunlight, the world seemed exceedingly bright. Light spilled into Haleth’s sitting room through the open window where he sat on a sofa trying to avoid the heat, having discarded his jewelry and most of his clothing save a thin shirt and trousers._

_Carnistir could, to some extent, remember when his mother had been pregnant with Curufinwë, but he had been so young a boy (and so thoroughly annoyed at having to share his mother’s attention with a new baby) that he could now recall few details of the affair. He could remember much better when Nerdanel had carried the Ambarussat. He had been young still, but he distinctly remembered that by the last weeks of her pregnancy she had become so round that she had difficulty with everyday tasks, so much so that he and his brothers would often have to help her as she could not easily bend to pick things up or spend too much time on her feet without pain._ _The memory was fresh in his mind now that he looked upon his wife who, as near as he could tell, had reached that same state._

_Haleth was quite done with being pregnant, thank you very much. She huffed as she walked - well, waddled really - across the room._

_“I have never awaited anything with more impatience than I do the children being born!" she moaned as she came to sit down at his side on the sofa, "I wish to be able to move again!”_

_Carnistir rearranged one of the cushions that lay beside him so that she might be more comfortable._

_“It is because there are two that they burden you so terribly.”_

_“Obviously,” Haleth sighed, “But I think it is also your doing.”_

_“How so? In that I have made you pregnant?”_

_She snorted. “You sound far too pleased with yourself when you say that, but no. It may have escaped your notice, but you are a ridiculously overgrown creature.”_

_“Are you quite certain,” Carnistir retorted, “that you are not simply short?”_

_“Perfectly positive. I am made as an adaneth should be. And so you see it is your fault that these babies are too large and cause me so much difficulty.”_

_He smirked for a moment, but then frowned in worry._

_Before Haleth’s pregnancy, he had known little of mortal childbearing and when this had become apparent to her she had taken it upon herself to explain the risks to him. He had looked at her in wide eyed horror as she had explained that a woman dying as she had her child was not a singular and unheard of evil, but common. The thing which had brought strife to his house since before his birth was something relatively normal to the Atani, it seemed. More terrifying yet, to hear Haleth explain it in her matter-of-fact way, was that it was rarely some gentle fading of the spirit. They bled to death like men on the field of battle or died of fevers that came of their wounds._

_That their babies were to be twins, he was told, made the risk all the greater, both to Haleth and to their children._

_“Do not fret, Moryo,” she told him, already knowing the cause of his disquiet. “We will all be well. I am not afraid.”_

_He tried to look comforted. That Haleth was not afraid meant little. Haleth was never afraid._

_“Come here,” he replied simply, and turned slightly to face her._

_Haleth rearranged herself so that she lay against him and he wrapped an arm around her wordlessly._ _For a long moment he simply held her, saying nothing. He comforted himself with the feel of her in his arms and the sound of her steady breathing. She would be alright, he told himself, he could not bear it otherwise._

_“What about Halwen?” Haleth asked suddenly._

_“Hm?”_

_“Halwen. For the girl’s name. I have said I would name the boy Halion and I know you intend to give them both names in your own tongue after the ways of your people - but what do you think of Halwen?”_

_“I doubt there is to be a girl.”_

_“Oh, none of that. I think I carry a boy and a girl because I was carried with Haldar, but for all we know they might well both be girls!”_

_Carnistir huffed. “I suppose it is possible there will be a girl. But I think you should expect boys. I have told you, I am one of seven and we are all male. Only one of my brothers is a father, but still I have a nephew and not a niece. It is ever a point of remark that our house is so large and there is not a single she-elf, save those that have married in. If we were to place bets, I would not lay any substantial amount of money on a daughter. Indeed, I would bet against it.”_

_“I would take that bet,” she retorted._

_He could not help the snort that escaped him. Of course he and his wife were betting about this of all things._

_“And what are you betting? Nothing too serious, I hope. I don’t think your odds are very good.”_

_“I think they are better than you realize. You consider only your own family and not mine. There are plenty of women in this family, myself included. Who is to say you will not have a daughter?”_

_Carnistir ran his hand across her arm gently as he considered this._

_“However unlikely I think it," he conceded,"If it is so, Halwen is a lovely name for her. In Quenya, we would render it Halwendë, I think. Though of course, she should never be asked to translate it if it be not her wish.”_

_Haleth’s mouth curved into a triumphant smile and said, “And what would you call her? Have you any idea?”_

_He thought for a while, frowning as he considered._

_“Morimíriel,” he said finally, “I would call her Morimíriel.”_

_“Moryo like yourself and Míriel…that was your grandmother’s name, yes?”_

_He stroked her arm again. “Well, she would be Morië and not Moryo because she is a girl-child, but yes. We are all father-named after Finwë, our grandsire. I suppose there is nothing stopping me from naming a girl that way too, Finwë is not technically a strictly masculine name. But I would give her Míriel’s name instead. Morimíriel is a proper Fëanáriel name even my father would have been proud of.”_

_“You sound as though you begin to like the idea of a girl despite your protests, Elf.”_

_He kissed the top of her head. “I admit to nothing, my dear.”_

_He felt Haleth shake in his arms as she laughed._

Carnistir left the memory then, seeking another. This one he remembered in brilliant clarity.

_He sat on the same sofa, but no longer in the relaxed pose from before. He was hunched forward, with his head in his hands as he had on and off for hours._

_He and Haleth came from vastly different cultures and their marriage had ever put the two in conflict. When Noldor gave birth, their spouses stayed beside them every moment. The Haladin, however, felt that birth was to be done among elder women and midwives, without the company of husbands or male kin._

_Carnistir had not challenged Haleth on this - how could he, when she was the one having to bear the children? And yet it increased the anxiety of the situation - how was he to know if she was alright? If things were going awry? He wished there was someone there to shout his frustrations at. That would make him feel better, he was sure._

_It was the powerlessness of it that rankled him. His children were coming into the world in the bedroom, his wife laboring in great pain, and here he sat uselessly on the sofa. He could hear Haleth’s cries and loud voices in the Haladin tongue and at that moment he was almost of a mind to burst through the door to her and damn the consequences._

_The pain must be terrible if it was enough to warrant a scream from Haleth Haldadiel of all people._

_H_ _e consoled himself with standing up to pace again. Up and down the thin hallway he walked, trying to feel like he was doing something, anything. He paced until his feet hurt beneath him and still he could not stop. All the world seemed reduced down to the sounds from the bedroom and his own hurried footfalls._

_After a time the screaming seemed to crescendo, ringing loud in his ears, the voices growing hurried and then — a child’s shrill cry._

_Carnistir stilled where he stood. His child was born. In the minutes that followed, he thought he barely breathed. The urge to run into the bedroom heedless of custom increased tenfold and he was already turning toward the door when a woman emerged from it._

_It was Rana, he realized, one of Haleth’s dearest friends. He meant to snap at her and demand to be let inside but as he opened his mouth he saw that in her arms she carried a tiny bundle, wrapped in red cloth._

_“Lord,” she said wearily, “come and hold your daughter.”_

_“Daughter?” he choked in surprise._

_“Aye, sir,” Rana replied, “An heir. The people shall rejoice.”_

_When he came near, the woman placed the little bundle in his arms without waiting for him to say anything. He stared._

_Up from the crimson blanket out looked a small face, round and flushed brightly pink in the cheeks. She had big green eyes — My eyes, he thought, my mother’s eyes — and delicate little lashes. Atop her head there was just a tuft of black hair._

_“Morië…,” he whispered to her, overcome, “Morimíriel…I am your Atar.”_

_Carnistir had thought he was familiar with duty and responsibility. When the Oath had been sealed, he remembered the sensation of being suddenly tethered, like his very being was shackled to some unseen thing. He realized now that he had had only the smallest inkling of the concept. The utter sense of devotion and responsibility he felt to this little child wholly eclipsed anything in his experience. The ties he felt to her were not chains, not forced or cruel - but tethers of bright light, something he was sure no being had the power to break. He could feel her little fëa brushing against his and the shape of the world seemed to shift about him now that she was in it._

_“She’s so small,” he managed to say finally, his voice unsteady. It was a silly thing, really, but he knew no words in any tongue for what he felt now._

_Rana nodded. “Even to our eyes, she seems so. Smaller than one would expect, but she does not seem sickly. Mother be praised, there is no sign Lady Haleth is in danger either. If I were to guess, the other babe will be along any minute now.”_

_As though on queue, there was another scream of pain from the bedroom and Carnistir could not hide his wince._

_Immediately, he turned his face down to look at the baby in his arms._

_“Do not fear, yelya,” he said and felt shock at the sound of the endearment on his own lips, “Your mother is strong. All will be well.”_

_Little Morië only blinked in response, and yet he felt the need to go on soothing her. She had never been alone for a moment of her existence, he thought, as she had been with her sibling every second, and he did not want her to feel so now._

_Rana, it turned out, had been right. It was not long before he heard it — the cry of another child from the bedroom, this one far louder. At the sound, Morië began to squirm as though somehow seeking her twin._

_Carnistir did not hesitate and carried his daughter into the bedroom._

_There he found Haleth sitting up in bed, surrounded by her ladies. Her eyes were tired and her blonde curls were plastered to her forehead with sweat. She looked more than weary, but at the sight of him something lit behind her eyes._

_“There you are,” Haleth said, “And with our girl, too… how small she looks in your arms.”_

_It was then he saw one of the midwives gently cleaning and swaddling the other baby at Haleth’s side. Haleth followed his gaze._

_“A boy, and a big one at that,” she told him, “Our Halion is strong already.”_

_Carnistir breathed in sharply. A son and a daughter. Could it truly be so? Could he truly be a father? That Haleth lay holding their children, beings they had made together in love seemed every bit as impossible as it was wonderful._

_One of the midwives came and took Morimíriel from his arms then and laid her on Haleth’s chest. Halion they placed beside his sister._ _A chair was drawn and he came to sit at Haleth’s side, looking more closely at the three of them. He drank in the sight of his son for the first time. Halion looked much like his sister, green eyed and black haired, but he was far larger than she was, so much so that Carnistir marveled at it. Twins were rare among his folk, and those of unlike sex rarer still._

 _Where Morimíriel was a delicate little baby, Halion was chubby, his bright pink cheeks adorably round and all of him soft._ _Pride of a kind Carnistir had not known it was possible to feel overwhelmed him. He reached out with his spirit, wishing to feel him._

_Halion's fëa was bright and impossibly warm and burning against his. The same tethers he had felt to Morië, he felt to this boy, her other half in the world. Was this how it had felt to his father when he and his brothers had been born? Like your very self was changed by an elf not even as long as your forearm?_

_With a hand that trembled, Carnistir reached out and stroked his cheek._

_My son, my own boy, he thought, how I love you already._

_Carnistir touched his son’s hand and Halion wriggled and then clasped one of his father’s fingers in a tiny fist. Carnistir’s breath caught. The whole world seemed to be contained in that little hand, clinging so tightly to his own._

_“How bold you are, yonya,” he wept, “How strong your grip is.”_

_Bold … yes, that would be his name, for so he was._

_“I wish to call him Veryafinwë.”_

_Haleth stroked the little boy’s head, “What does it mean?”_

_“Bold-Finwë.”_

_“It is a grand name for one still so small,” she replied, “but then so do all names in your tongue seem to me. Veryafinwë and Morimíriel…I rather like it.”_

_Carnistir leaned down and kissed Haleth’s temple._

_“How do you fare?” he asked her, “They said you were well and so you seem to me, but…”_

_“I am as well as I can be. I am exhausted and I hurt everywhere and I suspect I shall hurt a great deal more before I am healed, but I am alive and so are both of my children. I cannot complain. I take joy in knowing I was right.”_

_“Right?”_

_“We have a girl and a boy, like Haldar and I,” Haleth told him, “You would have lost our bet, Moryo.”_

_This startled a watery laugh out of him. “On this day of all days,” he replied, “I cannot find it in me to begrudge you.”_

Carnistir let the memory fall away. It was not only in memory that he wept, he found, for when he came to himself eyes stung with tears. Love and grief mingled in him to such a degree that he could not have said for which his tears fell.

He wrung his hands and said nothing to his mother. What was there to say? She seemed to understand this and simply covered his hands with her own, holding them gently. He feared somehow that if he stopped in this tale now he would not be able to begin again, and so he hurried to carry on. 

This time he sought another memory, one less auspicious, but no less dear. 

_“Atya!” came a little voice._

_Carnistir looked down to find his son frowning up at him from his crib with arms outstretched, clearly wanting to be picked up._

_Halion was a toddler now and as utterly adorable as he was demanding._

_He was chubby, with round cheeks flushed red and freckled. His hair, though black like Carnistir’s, was curly like Haleth’s and, in evidence that he had just woken from a nap, poofed out from his head in a wild halo._

_“ATYAAA!” he demanded again._

_In response, Carnistir bent down and picked him up, drawing a happy sound._

_“What is it, little one?” he asked._

_Halion pouted, his dark brow furrowed into a furious scowl. “Hungry,” he whined._

_“I knew you would be. You always are when you wake up."_

_Carnistir carried him into the next room, where he found Haleth sitting and watching as Halwen played with a wooden trinket._

_At his entrance, Haleth looked up. Her golden hair was piled atop her head in some disarray and her skin had tanned softly in the summer sun. Something in his chest turned._

_“I was wondering when he would be up,” she said, “Hand him here.”_

_The moment Carnistir placed his son in Haleth’s lap, Halion was already wriggling and tugging at the ties on Haleth’s dress._

_“Give me a moment,” she huffed as she untied her bodice and bared her breast. She cradled Halion in a practiced way and when he began to nurse with enthusiasm, Haleth looked back up at her husband._

_“You would think I starve him the way he rushes,” she told him, “Whether it is proper food or the milk of my breast, whenever he eats it is as though he fears I intend never to feed him again.”_

_“He must eat a great deal. He is a growing boy,” Carnistir grinned wryly._

_Haleth snorted, “Husband, I think I could well tell you of the contents of your son’s diapers and you would manage to reply pridefully.”_

_“As I am meant to,” Carnistir laughed, “I am his father. For me is to irritate everyone else with how proud I am. I had to suffer it when my nephew was born, and now I am determined to do the same to others.”_

_Haleth laughed with him and it echoed in his heart. This was all that truly mattered to him, here in this room. Haleth in an old dress, holding their son and laughing at him as the sun waned low in the sky outside, Halwen giggling along with her mother though she did not understand the joke and looking up at him delight. He felt home in a way he had not since he had stood in the light of the Trees._

“Halion was ever a willful child like that,” Carnistir said to his mother, sniffing a little, “He was demanding and loud and prone to tantrums.”

“That sounds familiar,” Nerdanel smirked, “I remember another such baby. Not that your brothers were all lambs either, but you in particular kept us awake. Was your daughter much the same?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Halwen was only minutes older but she ever seemed the eldest sibling. She could be willful as he was and had the same bright spirit, but she was forever a little lady. She would even get him to settle when he was distressed. As much as they were a twinned pair, they were opposites in many respects. He seemed to have all the rage and she had all the diplomacy. He was loud and she waited much longer to talk. They looked much the same in their faces, but he was always a strong, stocky boy and she was little and fine boned. They were two very different halves.”

“That does not surprise me. Nolofinwë and Írimë, twinned as they are, were ever unlike in temperament. It can happen. I…I confess, I take such joy in knowing about your Morimíriel. Not that your son is any less in my heart, but as I had no daughters, my heart soars to know of a granddaughter.”

Carnistir’s heart clenched. Dear, dutiful, unwavering Morië. How he missed her.

"She was a bright girl," he replied, "She was Haleth's heir and ever took that upon herself with poise, even as a little child. My son took up carpentry as a craft, eventually, but it took him some time to find that calling. Morië, however, wanted to learn weaving and sewing as soon as she understood what they were."

_He sat on the wooden floor, embroidery hoop in one hand. Halwen sat at his side patiently, her green eyes alight with interest. She was older now, sitting cross-legged with her dress laying immaculately straight over her knees. Her curls were in two braids that fell down her back and she folded her hands as she watched her father._

_“Show me the stitch again, Atya,” she asked, “Just one more time.”_

_He picked up his needle and floss again and pushed it up through the fabric in a smooth motion._

_“You want to put the needle back through right where you have just brought it up,” he explained, “Only don’t pull it all the way through. Just leave this loop here so that when you bring your needle up again—” he tilted his work to be sure she could see it clearly, “— you can thread it through the loop you have made and secure it.”_

_He showed her what he had done, leaving a round stitch like a link in a chain._

_“May I try it?” she asked, and he nodded as he handed over the fabric and needle._

_“Do not be discouraged if you do not master it right away. You are only beginning to learn to embroider, yelya. It is a skill that takes time.”_

_There was no need for the comfort. Halwen, as she had with all the other stitches he had taught her, made a perfect chain link on her first try. For good measure, she did a few more, extending out in a straight line from the few he had made._

_She then turned to look up at him expectantly._

_“You learn quickly with a needle,” he smiled, “...Morimíriel, indeed.”_

_Halwen beamed. “I want to learn to make beautiful things, Atya! When I am grown up I will weave and sew as well as an elf!”_

_There was a pause._

_“You are an elf, my girl.”_

_“Yes, but—,”_

_Carnistir shook his head and reached forward to cup his daughter’s cheek._

_“But nothing, you hear? You are an atan, too, of course. And I know that you see that better, for you are to be Lady of the Haladin someday and you live here among the Atani and have never walked among elves or been known to them. But you must never feel you must choose. You may be both. I am an Elda and you are my daughter. You speak to me now in the tongue of the Noldor. You are to be a she-elf as much as you are a woman. Let no one slice your heart into one or the other, Morimíriel. Not when you were made whole of two noble parts.”_

_“I will not forget, Atya,” she told him. “It is just...strange to be an elf who has never seen any others save you and Hal.”_

_“I know. That is why I remind you. To keep you safe, you must remain away from the Eldalië at all costs and if you are to meet them they must not know you are mine. You have always known that. But that does not mean you must become an atan alone who denies her heritage even in her own heart.”_

_The tender moment was broken by a sudden commotion outside. It was at that very moment that the door swung open to reveal Halion. He was breathing heavily like he’d been running and blood was dripping from his nose and knuckles._

_“Atar,” he cried, panting, “The other boy started it.”_

_Before Carnistir could inquire further, Haleth came in behind him. She had apparently not been looking for him, for she looked surprised at the sight of his injuries and her face instantly turned disapproving._

_“Halion, if you have been fighting again, so help me—”_

_“Mama, he started it, I swear!”_

_Haleth pinched the bridge of her nose._ _She then moved towards her young son and began checking him over, making sure he had no serious injuries._

_“You cannot go about hitting people!” she scolded even as she ran a tender hand over his face, “You are the son of the Halad, for the Mother’s sake!”_

_Halion winced. “Mama...I…”_

_“Veryafinwë,” Carnistir frowned, “why did you punch the other boy?”_

_Halion looked up at his father with wide eyes that began to fill with shame and he said, “He and I don’t get along. We never have. But this time he said mean things about you, Atar, that you are not truly a man and you don't deserve Mama because you are fey and strange! I could not let it stand!_ _”_

_Carnistir raised an eyebrow. He knew he should scold his son and remind him not to lose his temper, but he felt pride light in his chest that his son came so swiftly to his defense, even when it was something that mattered so little._

_His delight must have shown because Haleth gave him an unimpressed look. Knowing that meant he needed to say something, Carnistir cleared his throat._

_“You must not start fights over such a thing, yonya. It is nothing to me what a boy thinks of my masculinity and he is right to say I am not a Man, for I am not. I am an elf. That is no doubt also why he thinks me fey and strange. It does not matter. People say nasty things about that which they do not understand. You cannot go about hitting them every time they do so. Do you understand?”_

_“Yes, Atar,” Halion turned his face downward._

_Carnistir relented. “But… I cannot honestly say I would not have done the same if someone spoke so about my own father.”_

_Halion brightened at this immediately and Haleth gave an exasperated snort._

_“I wonder why my son is troublesome,” she sighed, “And then I remember the man I let sire him.”_

_She looked up and met his eyes and despite her grousing, a wordless tenderness passing on their shared gaze._

Time passed strangely in memory and by the time he returned to himself the rain outside had stopped and the sun was beginning to shine across the wet grass outside and spill in through the window. To Carnistir's surprise, he found that speaking of them, of his family, felt good. Though he prodded at old wounds until they were raw and bleeding once more, it reminded him that there had been love in him once. All this hurt, all this hate, it was not a pit that led nowhere, it was born of _love_. 

He could not forgive himself for what had happened to his family, would never forgive himself as long as he lived, but he thought then that perhaps there was some shred of good left in him. If he loved this much, he could not be truly monstrous.

“There are many things that might be said of me, many horrible, true things, _Ammë_ ,” Carnistir told Nerdanel. “I am a traitor and a murderer and by rights I ought to be rotting in the forsaken void. What Haleth would think of me if she could see all of it now, I dare not guess. I failed my children and when they were lost my rage was so great that I blamed all the world and I sought vengeance on innocents. But of all this, it could never be said that I did not love my children. I would have burnt the world to spare them. Believe that."


End file.
